Memories
by Marionette Ame
Summary: A small look into M-21's thoughts while being experimented on before he lost his memories. (OC heavy)


Harsh white lights blind his vision. Or maybe it's because of whatever's on his face (and body since he can feel it everywhere). It's wet and slimy and he swims often so he knows how everything's blurry underwater. It would explain the fuzzy figures he can see passing through sometimes when he can actually process what's happening through the haze he's in.

He probably got into some sort of fight again (or maybe an accident, though all he remembers is walking down the city streets. he was going home, but he doesn't find the lack of memory suspicious since such things aren't uncommon and he's sure he'll remember eventually) that landed him in intensive care. There's a heavy guilt that pools in him whenever he's able to think through his flickering consciousness because of that. The amount of worry his family must be feeling, that the entire tribe must be going through, with him injured is painful to think about. Even moreso than how his body aches or when it feels like hot needles are piercing through his flesh.

All of that only supports his idea that he's injured and healing. It's a shame that the he hasn't seen or heard anyone he knows whenever he isn't asleep, but he supposes he wouldn't know if they had either. Not with how this technology seems to be quite advanced meaning that he must have been here for a while. A coma maybe? But they probably don't let just anybody in. Even if they do, he can't make anything out with his eyes and his hearing is stifled by whatever he's in too.

So he welcomes the clarity that comes when he wakes up on some sort of bed. Even if he is strapped down. A surgery maybe? He's not exactly happy being awake for it though, and the doctors seem to have noticed too, if the way they seem to be looking at him as they talk means anything.

Which it does of course.

He hopes they put him under again because he_ really_ hates being in any sort of medical situation. That is, when he's on the receiving end. He can stand it easily enough, but it's uncomfortable in a way that means he doesn't want to. Even if they don't, it won't be too bad he supposes. He's pretty sure he's already been anaesthetised since his torso's numb and his mind's not as clear as it should be.

It's only when he's able to make out their words that he knows he's not supposed to be there. Experiment? Werewolves? Modifications? None of those things are normal and nowhere his parents took him would know about werewolves (even if his father and grandmother are werewolves, he and his other father aren't. they'd never take him to anywhere other than an ordinary hospital since they don't have places that treat humans better than humans themselves do. maybe the main werewolf island would but they're in a separate tribe that hasn't had contact with the main group in several millennia).

So that means his family didn't take him here. The thought is vile, but even viler is the next one that pops up. After all, if it wasn't his parents, and if instead of this being a hospital he was being experimented on, this must be the Union.

That's a horrible thought and he desperately wishes it isn't true even as he scrunches his face, trying to make out more of what they say. As he does, he thinks of his parents. Of how they both must be in a panic and of how his grandmother must be turning all of France upside down to find him; the tribe doing the same to Europe.

And maybe they _will_ find him. He has to hold on to that hope as best as he can even as the possibility of this not being the Union shrinks as time goes on and on.

He hopes more that his father (with that delicate body covered in scars, scars, and more scars, with the debilitating pain that makes him incapable of doing anything, with how soft he is and still fond of humour) doesn't cry for him. Because even if that would tell him that he belongs somewhere, he already knows that. He also knows that he (with his long white hair that seems to gleam silver and reflects the colours of the rainbow in the light, with that beautiful green of his three eyes, with his habit of wearing a hat and covering as much skin he can) already has cried and may still be doing so in the arms of his other father (whose own hair is a normal black compared to the piercing purple of his eyes, whose words are just as sharp when not warm, whose sleeves are always rolled up so they don't dirty as he gardens). His father must be in a desolate state, mourning for the time when he had served his grandmother (her eyes a gentler purple, her hands rough but voice cheerful, her time as a child spent protected by the man with long white hair who ended up her own son's spouse) and wishing he had not been injured so greatly.

Thinking like this only makes him despair so instead he forces his thoughts to the morning of the last day he had his freedom. Active and happy like always, his grandmother (her countless green box braids swaying, her grin just as mischievous as it was infectious, her love for the human man that had borne his father) had dragged her camera out, insisting that they take a photograph. It was a clunky thing but it had made them all smile so he had sat, his father (with his hair up in a bun so that it didn't drag in the dirt, with those glasses that he'd painted tiny flowers on, with the pistol always on his hip) had guided his other father behind him and they'd taken several photos. He'd never had the chance to see them developed but he's happy that at least the memory exists.

So when he hears the man call him M-21 (because it's not his name. because he refuses to give up on the one his parents gave him. because the Union just _sucks_), he glares at him and spits in his face when he leans in close. It gives him a satisfaction to see the old man recoil. Then they start to cut into his body, and it seems that numb feeling hadn't meant he was anaesthetised at all. In fact he's sure it's only made things worse. He does his best to stay quiet, gritting his teeth until he thinks he might need surgery for his jaw too, but he can't stop himself from grunting.

And later, he can't stop himself from screaming.

* * *

M-21 sighs as he tails the school children again. He hadn't felt like walking with them today, but Takeo and Tao did so he's here alone. Even if their company is enjoyable he's not particularly interested in it today.

It isn't because he's annoyed or anything of that sort (the gravel scuffing his shoes isn't bothering him much either despite meaning that he's going to have to get new ones soon. that, unlike the current situation, _is_ annoying). Rather he's just in the mood to be alone and not with people who want to chat his ear off. Which is why he's glad Tao decided to walk with the children and not him. Takeo's company would have been okay but the lack of it is fine too.

At least it is until a woman with numerous green braids and large sunglasses stops him in his path. His eyes narrow and he tenses immediately. A werewolf? Why was one here?

"Wow boy, you feel like you're about to commit murder. You can get arrested for that you know."

Those certainly weren't the words he was expecting (nor the accent or language because she's obviously a foreigner and all the other werewolves he'd met had spoken English rather than Korean. none had had a French accent either, instead having one he assumes was unique to their culture and language) but he doesn't let his guard down. Joviality doesn't mean harmlessness. "What do you want?"

The woman seems taken aback at his attitude and she looks at him as if he's strange. It's not a reaction he likes because of how it reminds him of the Union. It's not the same type of look (since it isn't filled with disdain or as if she's looking at an ant. she's only confused) and neither is it similar but the way her expression morphs is the same.

"Wow-" the woman shakes her head before speaking- "I just wanted to get the directions to the Botanical Garden. It's in this area but I can't find it."

The answer takes M-21 by surprise. He supposes she's just playing dumb and watches her carefully. It seems he takes too long to say something though since she adds a few more sentences on.

"I would have asked one of your colleagues but it's a bit weird approaching a group-" she smiles- "So, the directions?"

He's still suspicious of her but he gives them her and she mutters them under her breath repeatedly. She's trying to remember them but he can hear some wrong ones in there. So, he repeats himself, this time slower.

It doesn't help.

After continuously getting it wrong (which is suspicious and he doesn't like this. he wants to leave already but he needs to keep an eye on her. just in case), she smiles sheepishly and reaches into her sling bag. It leaves him in overdrive and ready to escape or fight (both really since he'd have to get them somewhere out of the way of all these civilians). She just takes out a notebook and a pen though, which isn't nearly as dangerous as what he had thought would happen.

"I've only got a map of the country and none of Seoul unfortunately. Could you just do a rough one of how to get to the garden?"

M-21 sighs, but obliges without saying anything. Both the paper and pen are of high quality, so she must be a bit higher up with the werewolves. That or all of them were on this level. Did they even have notebooks? Sure they must have paper but this sort specifically? It was strange. After sketching out the area he passes them back to her and she huffs, though it's withheld for how excited she seems.

"Thanks!" Then she stares at the map and her face goes blank. It makes him want to bang his head on something because_ for fuck's sake that's simple to understand._ He's considering just leaving without saying anything before getting dragged into straight up guiding her to the place when she takes off her sunglasses.

"Ah! I couldn't see shit with these on! Thanks again!" She looks back up at him but freezes upon seeing him, recognition flashing in her purple eyes.

It makes him tense again and he ends up snarling, "So you finally realised who you were talking to werewolf?"

"Excuse me?" The woman seems taken aback at how he reacts.

"Like I said. I don't know who sent you herebut _leave._"

Her expression morphs to one of anger- "_Excuse me?_ What's wrong with-" before it calms. "You met the main tribe didn't you kiddo?"

The sudden change throws him off, making him step back. "The main tribe?"

"Yeah. We werewolves aren't just one group, my tribe separated from the main one several thousand years ago."

He snorted. "I'm supposed to believe you?"

"I'd hope so," she says and murmurs some words under her breath that make him narrow his eyes. 'You believed it before'? What did she mean by that? Before he can ask she continues. "Anyway. I'm Aalis, the leader of the French werewolf tribe. I don't know what you think I'm here for but it's only because my son's a botanist and was invited here."

That only gains a raised brow and she pulls out a passport from her bag. "See?"

He examines it, surprised that she would hand it over so easily. It doesn't seem fake either (he knows because he's had plenty from back in the Union) and he finds himself believing her. As he hands it back two men approach, a human with a big floppy hat that hides his face and scars holding the hand of a werewolf with the same purple eyes as Aalis.

"Ma how long are you going to talk the poor man's ear off? We can just find the garden on Google." The werewolf sighs, "My apologies, I'm aware-" his eyes widen when he actually looks at M-21 and at this point he's utterly convinced something strange, even though not Union related, is going on.

"Is something the matter?" They seem to know him and it's nerve wracking.

Neither Aalis nor her son answer but the human looks up (his eyes unfocused and. oh. he's blind) at hearing him- "Julian? Is that?" The man's voice is so soft that he can barely hear him, and in English unlike the other two.

"Yes," Julian says, staring at M-21 with such a fervour that it's terrifying him, "It's Musa."

The words makes his mind stop because now it is clear. These people definitely know him. They know him and now? He finally knows his own name like he had promised the M-Series.

He only slightly wishes it didn't start with an 'M'.


End file.
